


Human Care

by ami_ven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: writerverse, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: Even without his grace, Cas’s hands can heal.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Human Care

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse", phase 23, challenge 01, prompt 05 "ministration"

Dean hated witches.

The hedge witches were bad enough, always burning weird herbs and spreading bodily fluids all over the place. But a few idiots got into the real dark stuff, bones and blood – other people’s blood, usually. The only good thing about these particular witches was that they apparently liked their blood supply fresh, and the lack of bodies left around meant that, for once, they might be able to save _all_ their victims.

That was the only thought keeping Dean sane when Sam vanished, too. He followed their latest lead on his own and found them – all eight of them, tied up in a dingy basement but alive, though the earliest victims were starting to look worse for the wear.

He untied Sam first, hoping he’d be able to help the others, but the witch must have already taken some of his blood, because Sam was only on his feet for a few seconds before collapsing back onto the wooden chair he’d been tied to. Dean handed his brother a knife anyway, and started untying everyone else.

He had just cut through the rope binding the last person when Sam yelled, “Dean, look out!”

Before he could turn, something slammed into Dean, knocking him suddenly into an empty wooden shelf. It was the witch – yep, the pretty blonde from the farmer’s market, who’d been selling scented candles and potpourri. Only, she wasn’t so pretty now. Her skin was waxy and wrinkled, pointed teeth bared – 

Her eyes blazed blue, and she crumpled to the floor.

“Cas!” cried Dean, scrambling to his feet. “Great timing, man!”

“Sam was praying most fervently,” said Castiel. “I drove as fast as I could.”

“Well, thanks,” said Dean. “Was she it?”

The angel tilted his head, then nodded. “All of the magic here shared a common signature, which is now fading. We are safe.”

“Awesome,” said Dean.

Sam managed to stay upright with a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, Cas, do you think you could…?”

He gestured at the others, all still sitting on their chairs, looking dazed, and Cas nodded. “Of course.”

He pressed two fingers to the forehead of the nearest person, then the next, until the basement was full of healthy humans, who shakily made their way back upstairs. But when Cas began to heal Sam, he swayed slightly, and Sam caught his arm.

“I’m good, Cas,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Let’s go home,” Dead added.

It was only three hours back to the Bunker, even going the speed limit, but by the time they pulled into the garage, Dean could feel every bump and bruise from his fight with that witch. Sam had fallen asleep against the Impala’s passenger door the moment they hit the highway, oblivious to the headlights of Cas’s truck in their back window the whole way home, and Dean shook him awake.

“You look like crap,” he said, bluntly, when Sam blinked at him. “Cas, you should take another—”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Sam insisted, hearing the truck door slam behind them. “Just tired. I’m going to sleep for about twelve hours, then… burgers?”

“Sure, Sammy,” Dean agreed.

“Great, good night,” said Sam, and left.

Dean pushed himself upright from where he’d been leaning against the Impala’s bumper and couldn’t quite hold in a wince. Cas, of course, noticed.

“You’re hurt,” he said, darkly.

“Bumps and bruises,” said Dean. “Don’t go wasting what’s left of your mojo on a few stiff muscles.”

Cas stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. I will get the first aid kit.”

“What? C’mon, I don’t need that.”

“You are favoring your ribs, which should be wrapped in case of small cracks,” said Cas. “And you’re bleeding in several places on your torso.”

Dean glanced down – his khaki t-shirt did have a few blood stains on it, but they’d clearly already stopped bleeding. “I’m fine—” he began, but Cas glared.

“If you won’t permit me to heal you with my grace, Dean Winchester, you _will_ allow me to tend to you in the human way.”

Dean stared at him for a moment this time, then sighed. “Fine.”

“Good,” said Cas. “You should shower first. I will meet you in the bathroom.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Dean grumbled, but a shower sounded pretty good.

It felt pretty good, too, the hot water easing some of the tension out of his shoulders. Cas had been right about his injuries – he had two pretty good scrapes along his left side, long but not deep, already scabbing over, and probably several more down his back, given the way it stung as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. 

Dean shut off the water and wrapped a towel around his hips, then came around the corner of the shower stalls to find Cas sitting on the edge of the cast iron bathtub, the first aid kit and a pile of clothing beside him.

“Yes, I thought so,” the angel said, eyeing the scratches. “Are you injured anywhere lower?”

Dean loosened the knot on his towel, smirking. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Cas regarded him levelly. “From the amount of bruising on your torso, sexual activity is unwise until you’ve healed.”

“That’s low, Cas,” Dean grumbled. “But I’m probably too tired for sex anyway, so the joke’s on you.”

“The ‘joke’ is on neither of us,” said Cas, complete with air quotes. “I enjoy the nearness of your soul during any physical contact.”

“Kinky,” Dean teased. When Cas just stared at him, he added, “No, I’m not hurt anywhere else. I wear jeans for a reason besides the fact that they make my ass look great.”

“It is a pleasant view,” Cas agreed. He separated something from the pile of clothes and held it out. “You should probably wear these while I work.”

Dean considered making a show of getting dressed, but his ribs hurt and Cas was already looking through the first aid kit, so he pulled on the pajama bottoms without any fuss. Cas was already wearing his own pajamas – he still didn’t sleep, as an angel, but he was getting the hang of human comforts – and Dean sat beside him on the edge of the tub.

“Lift your left arm,” said Cas, straightening with the bottle of antiseptic and a stack of large bandages.

Dean set his left elbow on Cas’s right shoulder, only wincing slightly as he moved. “Not broken, then, huh?” he said.

Cas spread both palms flat over the left side of Dean’s ribcage. “Breathe deeply,” he said, and Dean did. “No, not broken. We should be able to avoid wrapping it, as well.”

“Great.”

“Turn the other way,” said Cas. “I’ll clean and bandage your wounds. This will sting.”

Dean smiled at his unsympathetic, matter-of-fact tone – then winced again as Cas swiped disinfectant over the longest scrape.

When Cas had permanently moved into the Bunker, and Dean had regularly started turning down healings, the angel had begun collecting first aid manuals, then nursing text books. He’d even gone into town for a seminar at the Lawrence Public Library to get his CPR certification. (Dean was too distracted by the way Cas had carefully printed _Castiel Winchester_ on the card for his wallet to really give him a hard time about it.)

But more importantly, whenever he was patching Dean up like this, Cas’s hands were always so confident, so sure. Sammy was always afraid of pushing too hard, never getting cuts cleaned quite deep enough or bandaged tight enough. Cas’s touch was perfect, as always, thorough but not too hard, even when he didn’t use his grace.

“You have a terrible disregard for your own well-being,” Cas said, suddenly, but his hands were steady as he pressed a bandage to Dean’s lower back.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Kind of a hard habit to break, y’know?”

“Not if you tried a little harder,” the angel grumbled.

“You know me, Cas, I’m a slow learner.”

Cas finished smoothing the edges of the bandage, then shifted to cup Dean’s face in his hands. “You are one of the smartest, most inventive humans I have ever known in all my millennia of existence,” he said, in that low intense way of his. “Your capacity for quick thinking has thwarted the plans of heaven and earth, saved countless lives, my own included, and without you the world would be a lesser place.”

“Jeez, Cas,” said Dean, shifting uncomfortably.

Cas smirked. “I wouldn’t say such things if your soul didn’t light up so beautifully when I do.”

“ _Cas…_.”

‘You should get some rest,” the angel said. “Go on ahead and I’ll put this away.”

“Then you’ll join me, right?” Dean asked. Once, he would have been afraid of sounding needy, but not anymore.

Cas smiled softly and leaned in to kiss him. “I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me, Dean,” he said.

THE END


End file.
